


On Call

by padfootprophet



Series: an expanded definition of family [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Injuries, Alternate Universe - No Capes, Damian & friends still act like heroes, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 11:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21252380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootprophet/pseuds/padfootprophet
Summary: When Damian's in need - in danger, or trouble, or emotional turmoil - he calls Dick, because there's no world in which Dick says no.





	On Call

**Author's Note:**

> I occasionally make the mistake of thinking about what's happening in Nightwing atm and it makes me sad. This fic is in no way related to those events except that I started it to comfort myself.

**[I]**

Damian sinks slowly onto the steps outside of the bank. It's late, and the establishment is closed, but it's well-lit and covered in security cameras and the diner opposite is open and full of people. He pulls his hoodie tighter around himself as the phone rings once, twice, and clicks.

"Damian?" Dick sounds dazed; it's well past midnight and he was probably asleep.

Damian feels a little guilty about waking him. "Can you come and pick me up?"

"Yeah, course." There's a rustling, the creak of Dick's cheap bed, a yawn crackling through the line. "Are you safe?"

"Yes." At least he is now. "Safe as Gotham gets at 1am."

Dick makes a slightly pained noise. "That's less reassuring than you think it is."

"It's not supposed to be reassuring. It's supposed to be honest." It's supposed to make Dick hurry up because Damian's stomach still aches from being winded, and he can feel a bruise forming along his jaw.

He can hear movement down the line, then a slam of the door, a jangle of keys. Dick is nothing if not reliable. "You want me to stay on the phone?"

Damian makes a sound he hopes comes across as non-committal, as if he doesn't need the reassurance of his brother's presence. Of course anything beyond outright dismissal probably sounds horrifically clingy, and he can practically hear Dick smiling through the sound of an engine turning over.

"That spooked, huh?" Dick asks.

"Shut up." Damian can't bring himself to deny anything though. He's not a great person but he's an even worse liar and Dick would see right through him.

"Find my friends suddenly not sounding like, I think your words were _'a terribly clingy idea'_ because, again, a direct quote _'I already know too much about you'_."

"I stand by what I said. Last week you asked me whether or not the burger place Jon dragged me to was any good."

"And you never answered."

"It was passable. They had a grand total of two vegetarian options."

Slowly, Damian feels the tension that had coiled inside him all evening unwind. Dick's inane chatter more relaxing than he'd ever let on, and occasional glances from passers-by feeling less hostile with every passing moment.

It takes a thankfully short length of time for Dick's familiar car to pull along the road. A third hand, outdated piece of machinery Damian can't understand his attachment to; not when he could have used a fraction of the money Bruce had given him to buy something that didn't creak when it changed gears.

"Hey," Dick says, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door. Damian climbs in and hopes the Gotham night and the shadows of his hoodie hide the bruise forming. He realizes it's a futile endeavour when Dick sighs and reaches out to slowly push the hood back. "You want to tell me why you're picking fights past midnight?"

Damian tenses, not ashamed of his actions, or his motives, but averse to disappointing Dick. "There was a good reason."

Dick sighs again, switches his focus to driving - hopefully back to his apartment, because Damian doesn't really want to try sneaking past Alfred - and turns the radio on low. Damian watches him, notes the lines of stress and sleeplessness across his face and feels a wash of guilt all over again.

"I'm sorry. For dragging you out."

Dick laughs a little, and it's much more natural than the worry. "That is something you never have to apologise for."

"Then I'm sorry for getting into trouble."

Dick glances sidelong at him, before his eyes flicker back to the road. "Still no chance you're going to tell me why you're getting into trouble?"

"No." Because Dick will worry even more, because he's got more than enough on his plate with the GCPD, because he will _insist_ on helping. Dick doesn't say anything more and Damian finds himself drifting, fear-fuelled adrenaline slipping away in the safety of his brother's vigilance, leaving only the aching of his body and a deep seated tiredness.

**[II]**

Damian ducks behind a crate, trying to fold himself into a corner as he draws his phone from his pocket, mentally running through every curse he can think of in every language he knows. The warehouse was supposed to be empty, if he gets caught here it's more than bruised ribs he has to worry about.

He calls Dick and hopes he can have this conversation quietly.

"Damian, what's up?" Dick answers, light and confident.

"I need you to come to my location." Damian's voice is barely more than a whisper and it still feels too loud. He only hopes the shouts and crashing below cover his words.

"I'm at work."

"Good. Bring backup."

"Damian?"

Damian hangs up, makes sure his phone is silenced, and sinks deeper into the shadow of the catwalk he's sat on. As much as he wants the reassurance of Dick's voice the sounds from the warehouse floor are dropping and he cannot risk the noise.

All he can do is wait.

The GCPD, when they arrive, are far from quiet. There's shouting, and gunshots, and Damian risks peeking around the boxes but he can't tell Dick apart in the chaos. The gang, who Damian had been desperately trying to not stumble into, go quiet - outnumbered and outclassed, those who didn't run.

Damian stands slowly, and comes face to face with an officer, a gun lifted in his direction. "Hands where I can see them," the officer says.

Damian isn't stupid enough to let his stubbornness win out, raising his hands and slowly pushing his hood from his face. "I'm the one that called Grayson," he says, hoping the name will work in his favour.

The officer eyes him warily, but reaches for her radio anyway. "Grayson. Kid up here says he knows you."

There's a crackle of radio static and a familiar voice. "Five seven, black hair, green eyes? No idea how much trouble he's in?" Damian winces.

The officer lowers her weapon, although she doesn't take her eyes of Damian. "Fits the description."

Dick looks out of breath when he arrives, but unharmed, and Damian nearly sags with relief. He doesn't even complain when he's pulled into a crushing hug. "You _idiot_," Dick mutters against his hair. "What are you doing in a drug smuggler's den?"

"It was supposed to be empty." Damian's words are muffled in the vest but he feels Dick sigh in response, the breath working through his chest and fanning across the top of Damian's head.

He pulls back, and sets his hands on Damian's shoulders. "That's not an answer."

Damian bites his lip. It's not that he doesn't trust Dick with the information he has, he would trust Dick with just about anything, but they're not in safe territory and the officer from before is still watching them, as though expecting him to turn into a criminal any second. When he stays silent Dick sighs again.

"Okay." He lifts his radio. "Sarge, permission to take my brother home?"

"That the kid Ferro found?"

"Yep."

"Go ahead. Still want to know why he was here."

"Knowing him some dare gone too far. You know teenagers, _'sneak into that abandoned warehouse'_." Dick leads Damian out by the hand. He would pull away, insist on not being treated like a child, but he knows he's on thin ice right now, that Dick's _covering _for him. He lets himself be lead. "This one just wasn't so abandoned."

The ride is silent, tense, and Damian is so deep in thought he takes longer than he should to realise their destination. "You won't tell father about this will you?"

"I should." It's not a yes, but Damian is aware it's not a no. Dick lets out a humourless laugh. "I think we were glad when Jason grew out of being escorted home in a cop car."

"I'm not doing this for nothing."

"So you said last time. But you still won't tell me what it is." Dick pulls the car over before they reach the manor, far enough away that Damian can walk home and act like everything is normal.

"You have enough to worry about."

"So I don't need to worry about whether or not my little brother is going to get himself _killed_." It's not quite a shout, but Dick's voice is laden with emotion.

"Today was a mistake. I'll be more careful, so there's no need to add to your worries."

"Damian." Dick shakes his head, and when he looks across at Damian his gaze is earnest. "I'm always going to worry about you. But today I was _scared_."

Damian's heart catches, and he unclips his seatbelt so he can scramble across the console and pull Dick into a hug. It's awkward and there's something digging into his ribs and exacerbating the bruises there but Dick needs this and he's loath to withhold the reassurance. "It's Maya," he says, face buried against Dick's shoulder.

"What?"

He pulls away, sinking back into the passenger seat and closing his eyes. "Maya went missing, along with her father, without a word. I've been trying to track them down. He's… not a good person."

"Okay." Dick takes a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell me? I could help you."

"I told you, you have enough to worry about."

Damian can see Dick warring with himself, between pushing to offer his help and respecting Damian's autonomy. He appreciates it in a way that's hard to put into words. "Just… if you're going somewhere dangerous and you think you might need help… It doesn't have to be me. Jason is also capable of answering his phone."

Damian scoffs. "Aren't you supposed to be giving me responsible advice?"

"I'm giving you advice I think you might follow."

"Okay. I'll try."

Dick smiles, and it's still tinged with concern but it makes Damian feel better to see it all the same. "Say hi to Alfred for me."

Damian pauses, one hand on the door. "You could come and say hello yourself."

He's not surprised when Dick shakes his head. Threats of telling their father about Damian's misdeeds are hollowed by Dick's unwillingness to be in the same room as him if at all possible. It's not a void Damian knows how to bridge, yet, but he wants to, if only to ease the sadness in Dick's eyes when he talks about home.

**[III]**

Damian sinks onto the bench and closes his eyes. It had been a stupid idea, worse than any other, to come tonight. He dials Dick's number, for once not in fear but _misery_.

"Damian." Dick sounds concerned, which given that it's past midnight and the nature of Damian's calls lately, is understandable. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." No, not really. "I just need someone to come pick me up."

Damian can hear the phone being put down, can hear Dick moving around with light footsteps. He can map his brother's apartment, and his likely movement through it. "So were you hoping to find a lead in the suburbs or…?"

"I was at a party."

"Intentionally?"

Damian scoffs, the normalcy helping to soothe the tightness in his chest. "A decision I am regretting."

The sounds of Dick leaving his apartment are alarmingly familiar. Damian wishes he didn't have to keep calling him out in the middle of the night. "You're okay though?"

"I am fine."

"Anyone else need a ride?"

Damian flinches. He feels a little bad about leaving Colin without saying goodbye, but he'd been enjoying himself, and didn't need Damian's foul mood interrupting that. Maya was still missing - another twist of guilt that he hadn't found her yet. And Jon… would be grateful he'd left. "No," he answers, "Just me."

It takes longer than Damian would have liked for Dick to arrive; the suburbs far closer to the manor than his apartment. Alfred would have been quicker, and would be unlikely to judge Damian for staying late with friends, but Damian had wanted the comfort he could only receive from Dick's presence.

He's feeling cold by the time Dick's car rolls up, and underprepared for the chill of the night. He hadn't expected to need picking up, but then again he hadn't expected a lot of things. He sniffles a little as he climbs into the car, but passes it off as a reaction to the cold.

Dick leans so he can rummage around in the back seat and passes a blanket stored there over to Damian. "You should have waited inside," he admonishes, tucking the edges of the soft fabric around Damian like he's a bedridden child.

He swats Dick's hand away lightly. "I can handle the cold."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Damian doesn't meet his eyes. "I am unharmed." His honesty does little to deflect Dick's questioning gaze.

"Not what I asked." When Damian doesn't answer he starts driving. "Look, I know your dad is as emotionally closed off as they come but if there's anything you want to talk about I'm here."

Damian bites back the comment that he's Dick's father too, that the shared parentage is what makes them brothers but he thinks it might be useless. Instead he buries his cold face into the blanket, the smell musty but familiar, and says, "I know." It's why he called Dick after all - emotional support, not just physical. "But I don't want to talk about it."

His ringtone chimes loudly between them and Damian fumbles with the blanket to pull it free, expecting Colin to have noticed his absence. Jon's face grins up from the screen and he hits decline, dropping his phone into the door pocket.

The action doesn't go unnoticed by Dick, who is as observant as usual. "You know, I do have some experience with upsetting my friends. And being upset with them."

Damian's phone rings again, and it _is_ Colin this time, but he's still cautious as he answers.

"Damian!" Colin shouts when the call connects. The loud music pouring down the line dims slightly, as though he stepped outside or into a different room. "Where are you?"

"I left." Damian picks at a loose thread in the blanket absent-mindedly. "I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye."

"No, that's fine, as long as you're okay. Jon said-"

"I'm fine," Damian cuts across him. "Grayson's driving me home."

"_Grayson_," Dick mutters under his breath, "Here was me thinking we'd finally reached first name basis." Damian reaches over to lightly punch him in the arm.

"Okay," Colin says. He sounds subdued and Damian would feel worse about being short with him if he wasn't at emotional capacity already.

"I'll see you on Monday, Colin." He hangs up and puts his phone on silent before dropping it back into the door pocket again. Colin knows where he is, which probably means Jon knows too, if he cares. Damian pulls the blanket tight about himself and stares out of the window at the passing Gotham buildings as though he can block out his overthinking by doing so.

**[IV]**

Damian fidgets as he waits for Dick to answer the phone. It's not nerves, he doesn't get _nervous_, but there's a faint concern for what he wants to say, what Dick might say in response.

"Hey, Damian." Dick sounds slightly winded. "I'm at the gym, so is this a right now thing or can I shower first?"

Damian wrinkles his nose. "Please shower." He's sure his distaste is audible, especially judging from Dick's laugh.

"Alright. Then you want me to come pick you up?"

"I thought we could go and get ice cream, perhaps?"

Dick's delighted gasp should be more irritating than Damian finds it. "Oh, have you picked a place? Because there's one on 8th that's fantastic."

"Sure, we can go to the place you keep taking Gordon."

"Hah, knew you checked up on me sometimes." The smugness in his tone _is_ irritating.

"I was hoping for blackmail material."

"Sure." Dick hums, possibly along to whatever music is playing in the gym, and pauses to ask, "You're alright though?" in a softer tone of voice.

"Physically, or emotionally?"

Dick probably appreciates the honesty, or the admission that his emotional wellbeing matters, and Damian needs to test the waters of his brother's compassion. "I'll be there quick as I can."

Dick is true to his word, and insists on ordering two excessively large ice-cream sundaes before Damian can even sit down. Not that he minds, necessarily, although the ice cream is a little sweet for his tastes and the atmosphere a little bright. It's very _Dick Grayson _and comforting for that reason at least.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on?" Dick asks, friendly and warm. He takes an extremely large scoop of ice cream and winces.

Damian is far more reserved. Small, listless bites as he works up to what he needs to say. Dick doesn't question further, content to give himself brain freeze. Eventually Damian sets down his spoon and takes a deep breath, hands curling into fists.

"I'm gay," he says, quietly expelling the words into the cheery ice cream parlour.

"Yeah?" Dick's smile is open and as gentle as his tone.

Damian nods once, then returns his attention to his sundae. He looks up at the sound of the chair dragging across the floor, of Dick moving next to him. "What are you doing?"

Dick throws an arm around his shoulder and pulls him into something resembling a hug. "You were worried about how I would react. I get it, really, but I'm always going to love you, and I'm always going to be proud of you. Okay?" Damian nods again, and leans against Dick in silent gratitude. "You tell your dad yet?"

"No." Damian doesn't expect physical reassurance that he's still loved from his father; it's not customary, and he doesn't need it the way he needs it from Dick, because here anything less would be disconcerting. "Don't overestimate your importance from this."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Dick keeps one arm around Damian as he reaches for his ice cream, continuing to scoop large mouthfuls with little restraint. "So, do you like anyone?"

Damian flinches, tenses up, even though Dick cannot fail to notice it. "It's not important. He doesn't return my feelings, so it's better to forget them." He stabs at his slowly melting ice cream with fervour, as though the frozen treat is responsible for the disappointment he feels.

Dick sighs heavily next to him. "Alright, guess it's up to me to talk healthy responses to rejection. Should have remembered it's not covered in the Wayne household."

Damian turns away with a scoff, putting physical distance between them despite Dick's arm still holding him close. This was not the discussion he intended on having today, although he had known the topic would surface at some point. "You're so keen to distance yourself from your family I'm surprised you admit to remembering home at all."

At that Dick does pull away, folding his arms across his chest. Damian misses the warmth almost immediately, but he's tired of standing in the middle of this feud. He pushes away from the table - the purpose of this trip left abandoned in the wake of his anger - and storms to the exit.

Dick catches up to him before he's decided which direction to head. "Damian," he says, one hand curling around Damian's wrist. "Can we talk about this?"

Damian wants to turn him away, but his petulance has always got him less from Dick than his openness. "Fine." He leads Dick a few steps, leaning against a drab looking building. "You have something to say?"

"I'm sorry." It's not an unexpected start. Dick cups his hands around Damian's forearms, not _holding_, just contact. "I shouldn't drag you into my own problems with Bruce, it's not fair. I make light of it because I don't exactly have healthy responses either. I steer clear of my issues and I make jokes about them."

Damian twists his fingers into the fabric of Dick's shirt, just below the elbows, just where he can reach. "When you run away from home," he says quietly, "It feels like you're running away from me."

He's engulfed in a hug almost immediately, which is less surprising than the words Dick follows with. "I'll try, okay, with Bruce or family dinners or whatever. Maybe you could guilt him into trying too?" Damian snorts, then sniffles, both sounds thankfully buried into Dick's shirt. He's at once itching for the hug to end and happy to stay where he's stood for a moment longer.

"So, do you want to go finish our ice creams?"

Damian shrugs, non-committal. He'll go back in, if Dick wants, but he's done with the saccharine café.

"Or do you want to go to the park and watch dogs?"

"You should have led with that choice."

Dick laughs, pulling back and tucking his hands into his pockets. "Come on. I still have to give you my sage advice on how to not be awkward around Jon." Damian chokes, frozen, because he deliberately did not mention Jon's name at any point. Dick's still smiling at him. "You always forget I know you better than you think, little D."

Damian starts moving, leading the way to the park, his shocked expression chased away by a rising blush.

**[V]**

It's far too late for Damian to be doing this again, and he's worried that after last time Dick will say no, will leave him to face the consequence of going alone. Even if he wasn't alone, but he doesn't think _'I was followed'_ will win him any favours.

"Damian." The way Dick says his name when he picks up the phone is laced with pre-emptive disappointment.

"I'm sorry," Damian says, needing to get it out of the way.

There's a sigh rattling through the line. "I'll be there soon. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

There's a pause. Sometimes Damian curses everything that makes Dick Grayson a good cop, and a good brother - his ability to read Damian's tension even through the phone. "Damian…"

"I'm fine," he repeats. He glances nervously to the other end of the bench. "Jon's… not." Jon is slumped against the wood, breathing hard and watching Damian with slightly unfocused eyes. "He went down hard, twisted ankle, I think he has a concussion."

"If he needs medical help-"

"I can handle it, just, please get here."

The click of Dick's front door is reassurance enough. "Keep him awake."

"I know."

He doesn't hang up, but he drops his phone in his lap in favour of gripping Jon's shoulder, trying to keep those bleary eyes from slipping shut. Dick's probably right to be worried, Jon should probably be checked over by a professional. Instead he gets Damian, who doesn't want to get caught out because he's so close.

"Stay focused, Jon," he says, when Jon's eyes close for too long of a blink.

Jon meets his eyes. "My ankle hurts a lot," he says, quietly, "I hope I can still play football on Thursday."

"It's a sprain." Damian hopes. "You just need to rest it." Jon hums in agreement, but winces as he moves and his ankle twinges. "And not do anything so stupid again."

"So it's alright for you to do stupid things and get hurt, but not me?" Jon's anger is probably a good thing, if it beats out his lethargy. Damian still has one hand gripping his shoulder.

"I wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"That guy was coming at you!" Jon pushes Damian's hand away, rubbing a hand against his face and inhaling sharply when he catches the bruise forming across his temple - the skin blossoming angry red and purple. "You're not invincible just because you're lucky or smart or quick or… whatever it is you think you have, and I know you don't want to spend time with me anymore but Maya's my friend too. We'll find her quicker together. Then you can go back to avoiding me all you like."

Damian looks away. He wonders if this is how Dick feels every time he calls him in trouble - torn up inside, conflicted between worry and anger. "You were avoiding me too."

"Yeah, that's why I'm here tonight: _avoiding_ you." Jon crosses his arms across his body, and it's almost normal, except that instead of kicking at the ground, the way he always does when he thinks Damian's being unreasonable - like a small child sulking - he's still, avoiding his injuries. "You're still my best friend Dames, that doesn't change."

Damian is saved from the building emotional response in his chest by the appearance of Dick's beaten up car. Not that he's looking forward to this conversation either. He offers Jon a hand, unsurprised when it's pushed out of the way, when Jon hops towards Dick's car unaided and wrenches open the back door. Damian follows hesitantly, climbing into the front with mounting trepidation.

The car remains stationary, Dick flexing his hands against the steering wheel until he finally breaks. "So, who's going to talk first?"

Damian forgets sometimes that before he moved out Dick was practically raising him, more father than brother, but it shines through now in his tone.

"I'm sorry, uh, Mr. Grayson," Jon says, voice quiet in the back.

Dick sighs heavily. "Just Dick, please, I'm not that old." It's a joke, but even Dick doesn't smile at it. "Do your parents know where you are?"

Jon shakes his head then winces visibly. "I told them I was with Damian, but…" he pauses, voice shaking and bites his trembling lower lip. "My phone died, and it's so far past curfew." His eyes slip closed, but it's not the concussion, just guilt. "I've just caused us more trouble."

Damian wants to reach out, to reassure him, but he has no idea how to and he's trying to not draw Dick's attention to himself, as though he can hide from the coming disapproval.

"Okay," Dick says. He lifts a hand from where it's clenched around the wheel and picks his phone up from the dashboard. Damian hears it ringing in the silence of the car, and then connecting, a voice at the other end.

"Hi, Clark." Dick's voice is cheerier than it has any right to be. "Yeah, they wound up at my place and fell asleep watching a movie." Damian's eyes go wide when he realises that Dick is covering for him, again, despite every trust he's broken. "I would have woken him up if I'd known, but of course they come here to get away from curfew."

Damian can hear Clark speaking, but not enough to make out the words. Whatever it is makes Dick laugh, though Damian can recognise it's forced. "Do you want me to drive him home?"

More half caught words, then, "Okay."

Dick pulls the phone away from his ear. "Hey Jon, you can stay here, but your dad wants to say goodnight."

Jon scrambles for the phone and Damian tries to tune it out, to give his friend some privacy. It's easier under the weight of Dick's gaze, settled on him and radiating disappointment.

Jon's goodbye is quiet and he passes the phone forward again with a small, "Thank you."

"Now," Dick says, barely sparing Jon a glance, "We're going to talk about what you were doing here, alone-"

"Jon was here," Damian puts in, knowing that the defence won't save him. Dick's eyes just narrow slightly in response.

"-putting yourself in danger, _again_." He takes a shuddering breath, and squeezes his eyes closed a fraction too long. Damian feels sick. "Please," he says, eyes still shut, "God, Dami, I can't do this anymore."

Damian finds himself swiping tears from his own eyes, so hurt by what he's caused he can't hold it back. "Richard, I…" his voice fades away when his brother's eyes flicker open again, shining and watery. "I promise," he says, so quiet that it would have been lost in anything but the absolute silence of the car. "I _swear_ that I won't do this alone. I'll call you." He would have promised the moon to stop Dick from breaking in front of him.

Tears cling to the corners of Dick's eyes, and he takes another shaky breath. "You can't break that promise, kiddo."

Damian has no intention of it, but he can't get the words around the emotion choking his throat. He lets himself be pulled from his seat and into Dick's lap, even though he's far too big to fit there comfortably the way he did when he was ten; ten and rash and pushing away from this contact that he needs so much now. He curls his fingers into the worn hoodie Dick's wearing and holds on until he can no longer feel the moisture gathering on his eyelashes.

**[VI]**

Damian curls one hand round the strap of his bag so he doesn't clench it in his shirt and wrinkle the fabric, his other hand is holding his phone, waiting for the call to go through.

"Damian?" Dick asks, "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"I am in school."

"Are you sick? Do you need me to come pick you up?" Damian could laugh, because of course Dick's first instinct is to worry. Not that Damian doesn't feel a little sick, nerves clawing at his stomach.

"I'm fine. I just… you told me to call you before I do anything rash."

There's a brief silence from the other end of the phone. "Are you about to skip school?"

"No, I…" Damian's fist clenches around his strap tight enough that his fingers are pressing into his palm. "I'm going to ask Jon to go to homecoming with me," he says in a rush.

"Oh. Did something change?" Dick doesn't sound overly concerned, just confused. Damian can't blame him.

"No," he says, "At least, not in terms of _that_." Jon still isn't interested in Damian as a romantic prospect, but somewhere between Jon getting hit in the head for him and the night they spent together in Dick's living room afterwards, speaking quietly, Damian realised that didn't mean he didn't care. "But I wish to take someone to the dance and there's no one else I'm interested in. We would likely be attending together anyway, this is just a more formal arrangement."

"So why not go as friends?"

This, at least, is a point Damian has a prepared counter for. "Because I refuse to be less than who I am, or bow to societal norms for the comfort of others."

"Even Jon's comfort?"

"I- he can say no."

Dick hums. "Just make sure he knows that. People will do really stupid things for their friends."

Damian's not sure if that's a dig at his actions for Maya, or just wisdom spoken from experience, but he understands either way. The conversation has taken him to his locker and Jon standing by it; Damian had expected to have to seek him out. "Okay," he says, a little quiet because Jon looks up and smiles at him.

"He's there now?"

"Yes."

He can almost see Dick's expression, his supportive smile. "Let me know how it goes."

"Of course."

Damian slides the phone back into his pocket and tries not to let his hands shake as he opens his locker. "Hello," he says to Jon.

"Hi. Who was that?"

Damian focuses his attention on taking books from his backpack and stacking them into the locker, although his mind is turning over the speech he has planned. "Richard."

"Oh, man." Jon leans casually against the locker next to Damian, hands stuffed in his pockets, almost entirely at ease. The bruise on his face is dark, but largely covered by his hair. His ankle, Damian knows, carries a similar bruise but at least he can walk on it. "I still feel like we owe him big."

"He would likely be offended at the suggestion. He takes his brotherly duty very seriously."

"Hmm." Jon's head is tilted in Damian's direction, a gaze for a moment so alarmingly similar to the one Dick wears when he's prying apart Damian's shell. "Hey, I had something I wanted to ask you."

Damian switches from putting books away to pulling the next set out. "By all means."

"Do you want to go to homecoming with me?"

A book slips from Damian's hands and hits the linoleum floor with a light thwack. His brain goes blank a moment and he swallows, not entirely trusting his voice. "As friends?"

"I guess? But also as dates." Damian turns his head to find Jon looking a little awkward, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, but still remarkably composed. He doesn't think he could say the same for himself. "I just… I think you deserve to be able to go to homecoming with a guy and we'd be going together anyway, but this way we get to rub it in the face of some homophobes."

It's almost exactly the same line of reasoning Damian had. Jon bends slightly and picks Damian's book off the floor. "You don't have to, but I thought it would be nice."

"It would," Damian says cautiously, curling his fingers around the book Jon's holding out, still a little frozen.

Jon grins. "So that's a yes?"

"I… yes, I suppose it is." Damian allows himself a smile in response, shakes himself and sets to putting his book into his bag. "Thank you," he says, because Jon deserves to hear it.

Jon squeezes his forearm in a brief moment of contact and then he's pushing away from the lockers. "I should get going, but we'll talk more later." He waves, before turning and disappearing down the corridor.

Damian finishes packing his books away, shutting the locker door and leaning back against it before he pulls out his phone.

"He asked me," Damian says before Dick can even get out a greeting. He can hear the awe in his own voice.

"What?" Dick sounds like he's holding back laughter.

"Jon asked me to homecoming. It was… it was like he knew everything I was going to say to him."

A chuckle breaks through the line. "Well, he _is_ your best friend right? That's what they do." Damian doesn't answer, mind still reeling, his thoughts only broken by the warning bell sounding. "Look," Dick says, "Get to class, and I'll pick you up after school and we can go to the park and talk about it. And then I was thinking maybe I could come home with you. Be there when you share the news you've got a date."

"A friend-date," Damian corrects without thinking before his brain fully catches onto what Dick is actually saying. "Wait, you'll come to the manor?"

"Yes."

There's an increased movement of students and noise as they find their way to classrooms. Damian moves with them, feeling himself smiling. "That would be good."

"Okay kiddo, see you after school."

**[VII]**

Damian taps his fingers against his leg nervously as the phone rings. Colin and Jon are on either side of him in equal silence.

"Damian, what do you need?" Dick says as he answers.

"A ride."

There's a pause. Damian can hear music in the background, faint, as though Dick turned it down before answering. "You're at the manor?"

"I said I would call you before…" Damian trails off, makes a vague sound because he's not sure that this conversation is entirely private and his father still doesn't know about his search for Maya. "I keep my promises." It's why he doesn't make them often, can count those he has with relative ease. He cannot imagine a time in which he would break a promise to Dick.

"Okay. I'll be over shortly."

"We're really doing this," Colin says, after he's hung up.

"Yes." The location is firmly planted in Damian's mind, the answer to their search. He stands from the couch he'd been sat on. "We should go and wait outside."

They're quiet as they pass through the manor, and Damian is certain the other's minds are as focused on what comes next as his. If they're successful then their friend gets to be safe; they cannot afford to be unsuccessful. Damian pauses outside his father's office and motions for the other two to wait.

"Father?" he asks as he knocks quietly on the doorframe.

Bruce looks up with a small smile. "Damian. I thought your friends were over."

"They are." He attempts to ease his posture, lest his tension betray his plans. "We're going out. To an arcade. I thought you would like to know."

Bruce watches him closely. "Alright," he says, "Do you need Alfred to give you a ride?"

"That won't be necessary. Richard already offered."

There's an added tension in the room. Dick had been over for dinner at least, but it was clear his presence was for the benefit of his siblings, not his father, and the gap between the two had made the whole event a little stilted. Bruce nods once. "Alright then." Damian relaxes a little, as Bruce returns his eyes to the computer in front of him before he adds, "But I expect you all to be home before curfew, and not pretending to be at Dick's apartment." There's a knowing in his tone that suggests he's aware the arcade is an excuse.

Or perhaps he wasn't as easily fooled as the Kent's that Damian and Jon had been at Dick's the other night. Damian leaves the room before he incriminates himself further.

Dick doesn't take long to pull onto the drive, although he looks a little surprised Damian isn't alone. "Didn't realise this was a group trip," he says quietly as Damian hands him the address.

"Maya's our friend too," Jon says, before Damian has a chance to defend the presence of the other two boys.

"Hmm." Dick pulls back onto the road and towards the apartment building Damian is certain the Ducards have been living in. "So what's at this address?"

"Maya," Damian says.

"We think," Colin chimes in from the back, "Based on the evidence we have."

"Okay." Dick doesn't say much else as they leave the nicer area of Gotham City and sink into the areas Damian has been endangering himself in at night. The Narrows live up to their name, with tight roads and buildings crammed in so close the whole world feels a little like it's closing in on itself. Maya deserves better.

Jon seems least affected by the tension of the car, sitting forward in the back seat to wrap an arm around Damian's shoulder. "We've got this," he says, pulling back when Damian shrugs him off with a tut, only to ruffle up Damian's hair on his way. The action draws a gentle laugh from Dick, likely because he's done the exact same in the past. Damian turns to admonish him and catches sight of Jon and Colin sharing a fist bump in the back seat.

It's reassuring in a way: Jon's confidence, Colin's determination, even Dick's easy-to-find optimism. Damian thinks too often about what can go wrong, has thought of little else since he started looking for Maya, but in this moment he allows himself a thrum of hope. _They've got this_.

The hope is replaced by pragmatism as soon the car pulls to a stop.

"Do you want me to come up there?" Dick asks.

Damian is grateful he does, knowing that he trusts Damian to make right decisions here, even if they aren't good ones. He shakes his head. "We may need to get out of there quickly. Jon and I are best suited to do so."

He would be best suited to go alone but Jon had made it clear he would not be left behind in this and if Maya's father is less absent than they're expecting then having Jon's extra height and strength would be advantageous. "Fire escape?" Jon asks.

Damian nods. "Colin, you should-"

"Stay here." Colin smiles as he cuts Damian off. "Don't worry. I'm not looking to be the hero. I'm just here for emotional support." He gives a thumbs up to Damian, who hides his responding smile by turning his head.

"If you need me…" Dick starts, one hand resting on Damian's arm as he opens the car door.

Damian nods. "Just listen out."

Scaling the fire escape is relatively easy, locating the right window a little less so, but Damian had gained access to the building floorplans - a task he had begrudgingly needed to secure Tim's help for - and he is certain he has it right, not least because Maya cannot afford him to be wrong.

The building is old enough that the window pries open a crack under the screwdriver Damian had brought with him and the lock can be manipulated with relative ease. He slides the glass pane upwards and turns to Jon.

"Should I be worried," Jon whispers as he drops into the apartment with surprising grace, "About how easy it was for you to break in?"

"It's an important skill," Damian mutters in response, keeping his voice low and his focus on the room instead of Jon next to him.

They creep from the room, down the short hallway, and Damian draws to a halt in front of a door, the only one closed within the apartment. It's unsurprising when he attempts the handle and it doesn't budge - locked, the key not obviously visible.

Jon, having peered in every other room, comes to stand next to him. "You think this is her?" he asks quietly.

Damian nods, and watches as Jon lifts his hand to knock against the wood of the door. He thinks the noise might be a bad idea but he can hardly take it back, not when Jon presses close to the door and says, "Maya?"

There's movement within the room and then Maya's voice leaks around the edge of the door. "Jon?" she asks. Damian feels a weight lift at her voice, whole and here.

"And Damian," Jon says.

Satisfied they have the right apartment, the right room, Damian kneels before it and pulls out a set of tools he'd borrowed from Jason - after his brother had elicited a promise he wouldn't tell Dick where he'd gotten them from.

"What are you doing here?" Maya asks.

"Rescuing you." Damian doesn't have to look up to know Jon's smiling and is certain Maya can hear it in his voice as well. "Well, Damian's doing most of it."

"Damian?"

"Focusing on the lock," Damian mutters under his breath as he slides the lockpick into place. He holds his breath, manoeuvring the thin piece of metal until he feels it catch. He's thankful the lock is nothing complex as it gives and the door opens.

Maya stands before them, gaping as her eyes flicker between Jon's smiling face and Damian, pushing up from the ground. She throws an arm around each of them, drawing them together, and Damian resists the urge to pull away too quickly, because she's shaking slightly and her comfort means more than his in this moment.

**[VIII]**

Damian pulls nervously at the cuffs of his shirt, straightens his collar for what feels like the fifteenth time and eventually huffs, giving up on his attempts to soothe his nerves in any way but the familiar.

His phone rings, and rings, and passes onto voice mail. An automated message plays - Dick having never recorded his own - and Damian considers what he could say before hanging up. He doesn't need to leave a rambling litany of thoughts for his brother to save and use against him. Not that he thinks Dick _would_ but the possibility remains.

He drops his phone, sits on the bed, and waits a few minutes for Dick to call back. Because there's no way he won't. Feeling no more at ease after five minutes have passed he calls again and reaches the same automated message. With an irritated sound he stands, texts Dick to _call him back_, and goes to find Maya.

She's been staying in the manor, even as Bruce put tighter rules on Damian for all his sneaking out, because - as Alfred had pointed out - they have more than enough room to spare. Damian is happy to take the punishment of an early curfew and less time spent with his friends and Dick alike in return for the knowledge of Maya's safety. He considers himself fortunate he's being allowed out for homecoming.

He knocks against her doorframe and she looks up from the book she's reading, curled up on the bed with complete disregard to the possibility of wrinkling her dress.

"Damian," she greets, eyes scanning over him in a way that reminds him of Cass, picking apart non-verbal signals because she can't quite grasp verbal ones, or because she's just better with actions. "Are you nervous about your date?"

"No." Not that he wants to admit. He sits down on the bed with a huff and smooths a non-existent wrinkle from the edge of his shirt. "Richard isn't answering his phone."

"I'm sure he will." Maya sets aside her book and swings her legs around so she's sat next to Damian. "It's likely he's just at work, or the cinema, or somewhere else he can't answer you immediately."

Damian nods. Logically he knows she's right, but Dick's reliability has become a cornerstone he could not bear to see crumble.

"I've never had a date before," he says.

Maya makes no move to reassure him physically, beyond a slight smile and her presence at his side. "Jon's hardly a Casanova," she says, "And for some reason he likes you, a lot. Just be yourself." She makes a thoughtful sound. "Or maybe be a version of yourself that's ten percent nicer."

Damian would have laughed, if not for the rap of a fist against the doorframe and his father saying his name quietly. Bruce's face is pulled into a frown, concern etched in every line.

"Father?"

He steps into the room and crouches in front of Damian, still sat on the bed. "I want you to know everything is going to be alright," he says. It makes Damian's chest clench with dread. "But Dick is at the hospital."

Damian's sharp breath is little more than a choke on air. "What?" he asks, voice rasping, "What happened?"

He feels Maya set a hand on his shoulder, hears her telling him to breathe, but it's washed away by tears welling up in his eyes. He focuses on his father's eyes as they swim a little. "He's going to be okay," Bruce says, his voice piercing through the emotions attempting to drown Damian. "He was shot on duty, but nowhere vital, and he's in surgery now, but he'll be out and up soon enough."

"I need to…" Damian's voice is thick with his tears and they spill out with a gasping sob. "Can we go? See him?"

Bruce rests a hand on his knee, squeezes gently, his touch an echo of the reassurance Damian would feel if it was Dick in the room with him. "Alfred is taking me to the hospital shortly. There is, of course, room for you, but I know how much you wanted to go to the dance."

Damian shakes his head. He cannot fathom being able to do anything until he sees Dick is safe, is as okay as Bruce insists he will be. He turns slightly so he can see Maya beside him, her own eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I'll tell Jon, and Colin."

He nods, but doesn't say anything more; not as he leaves Maya's room, or follows his father, or climbs into the back of the car Alfred is taking them to the hospital in. He doesn't think he could form a sentence, his thoughts fractured and spiralling.

They only focus again once he's stood before the hospital room and he can see the dark hair of his brother. Barbara sits beside him, speaking with him softly and Damian feels irrationally irritated that she got to be there before he did. The slight anger falls away when he reaches Dick's bedside, when Barbara squeezes Dick's hand and says, "I'll give you a minute."

Damian glances behind himself as the door swings shut, registers with brief surprise that his father is also on the other side of it, before he turns his attention back to Dick, looking up at him with bleary eyes - a likely side effect of the injury or the surgery, of the painkillers or the anaesthetic.

"Hey," Dick says, reaching out. Damian grasps his hand gratefully. "I thought you had a dance to go to."

Damian feels more tears well up and break across his cheek. He hadn't realised he had any left to shed, but the relief of hearing Dick's voice pulls at him. Dick shifts slightly and opens his arms towards Damian. A part of him wants to pull back in response, a voice telling him that caring has only gotten him hurt. It sounds a lot like his mother, who never would have approved of Dick Grayson, and he ignores it out of spite for her, if nothing else.

He sits on the edge of the bed, curls into Dick's side, careful of the bandages wrapped around his leg and the drip pinned to the back of his hand. Dick strokes his back as he presses his tears into the stiff fabric of the hospital gown. "Don't do that again," Damian says, gripping a fistful of the material, "_Promise _me."

"Damian." Dick's voice is soft, his hand still stroking. "I can't promise that."

"Then what good are you?" Damian is surprised by the venom in his own response. Dick doesn't seem to be, not from the way he responds, which is just to hold Damian tighter to himself.

"I can't promise I'm never going to get hurt, kiddo. I wish I could. I wish I could know I'm never going to cause you to feel like this again." Damian wants to ask how he could possibly know what this feels like, but Dick keeps talking, his voice strained enough that Damian can tell he's holding back from crying himself. "I can promise I will do everything within my power. I can promise I won't make reckless choices."

The tension and anger drain away. "I'm sorry," Damian says.

"For what?"

"For being angry."

Dick shifts, presses a kiss to the crown of his head. "You don't need to apologise for caring about me, Dami."

"Then I'm sorry for everything else. I… I was being reckless, with Maya, and if you felt _this_." He can't get the words out, the ones he wants to say, but Dick has almost always known him better than he knows himself - bar those first few months before Damian's walls cracked enough to let his brother in.

"Can I tell you a secret? One you definitely can't tell your dad?"

Damian nods against Dick's chest.

"I'm not as upset as I should be about your misadventures. I am, in fact, more than a little proud."

Damian looks up at that, finally setting his eyes on Dick's face rather than the pastel patterns of the hospital gown. He narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Because as stupid as some of those decisions were you were just doing what you thought was right, to keep your friend safe. Because you _care_ so much." Dick smiles down at him. "You've got such a good heart and I don't think people tell you that enough."

Damian looks away, always a little unsure of what to do in the full force of Dick's affection and praise, and especially unsure now, with the pain of Dick being hurt still so fresh.

"Other people are waiting to see you," he says. He makes no move to let go.

"Well, I'm here all night, at least, so they can wait a little longer." Dick continues rubbing small comforting circles against his back. "Until you're okay."

**Author's Note:**

> (Dick Grayson is in hospital for a grand total of fifteen hours and receives so many visitors Bruce has to make a pretty sizeable donation to stop the hospital from throwing them out. Maya & Jon & Colin show up about fifteen minutes after the last scene and eventually persuade Damian to let them take him home. They all fall asleep in one bed.)


End file.
